Thursday, September 8, 2016

Inner Monologue

When you get the kind of news that nobody likes to get, the kind that stops you in your tracks and makes you re-think your ways and your habits and your life, the kind that helps regrets to surface and hope to disappear, it doesn't feel right that life goes on all around you as if nothing has changed.

I want to stop people in parking lots, in stores, on bike trails, at schools, and tell them what is happening. I want to tell them to stop acting like life is normal. I mean, how can everyone just go on doing normal everyday things when something so horrible is happening just under their noses?

Why do I have to keep on doing all the things that I always do - making meals, doing laundry, driving people where they need to be, shopping for food or clothes or school supplies or anything when all I really want to do is sit in my bed and read or sleep or eat copious amounts of ice cream or chocolate or nothing at all.

It seems unfair that I have to continue to act like everything is normal when it's not.

Sleep is such a beautiful escape. But then I have to wake up.

16 years ago this August my father was diagnosed with the worst kind of cancer in his brain and given months to live. Cancer in the brain. It makes me think of some terrible creature, living inside of his head, eating away at whatever it sees. Devouring his memories, his abilities, his life. He made it almost to the end of January.

16 years later, on the first day of September, my mother is diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Stage 3.

I always choose to find the good in the bad. I always choose to find happiness when there is sadness. But this time it is not so easy. It is almost too much. I find myself crying when I least expect it. I no longer control my emotions, it's like they control me.

My brother told me that, if you think about it, cancer is a gift. I could have been told that my mother was in a horrible accident and died. Instead, we are given the gift of time. And it's true. More time with her is a beautiful thing. But some days it is hard to see beyond this cancer that has taken up residence inside of her without permission.

So, I wear my smiling mask and I wait.

10 comments:

LMW said...

I'm so sorry.

Anaise said...

Oh rats! That IS devastating. I'm sorry. I will pray for you and your mom and all of your family . . .

Sarah Dawn said...

You put into words exactly how I feel about losing my Meggie. It's hard to do "normal" some days and watch everyone go on when you've lost something so precious. I am so sorry about your mom and if you need me to do any more picking up or running kids places I would be glad to. Life is short but eternity is long and some days knowing that I will have that time with my girl is the push I need to keep doing "normal". Prayers for comfort and hope are coming your way. :)

Pam M said...

I know exactly what you mean. It wasn't that long ago that I too was watching the world around me, wondering how everyone else could act so normal while this kind of thing was happening. I am so sorry! All I can say is that you need to make sure to take care of yourself right now, for your own needs will come last while you take care of your mom and everyone else. Believe me, I know - so please remember to eat and sleep and have some kind of emotional/physical outlet during this time. But I also know that you WILL get through this, Gerb. Life will never be the same, but one day the rawness will lessen and you will find a new version of normal that is kind of, sort of, okay. Love you!

Linn said...

I'm so, so sorry to hear about your Mom. It made me emotional to read this. Please know she, and your whole family, are in my prayers. xoxo

clara said...

Oh no no no no, not you too! Seems like cancer is everywhere, I'm so sorry for you!!!
And though I understand why your brother says that, I really can't see it as a gift, really not!
I hope the routine helps you get through the day.

But please, don't surrender.
Please don't consider her lost! People survive, people get better, even with stage 3! I just looked it up, 45% of the people with stage 3 ovarian cancer survive. That's a pretty good chance, you know. Especially if she takes care of herself. Think of all the people who let themselves go, who don't follow any therapy or cure, they make up for a large part of the other 55%. If she takes care of herself, she really stands a very good chance!
Please try to be positive Gerb, it's very important to be positive, to act, to react, to fight it with your mind, to help your mama fight it with her mind.
Make her eat vegetarian.
And no lactose.
Lots of fruit and vegetables. Get her an extractor or a centrifuge so she can drink huge quantities of fruits and vegetables, all vitamins.
Ginger.
Curcuma.
Make her drink a little bit of potassium bicarbonate + vitamine C powder + a little sugar, dissolved in water, every day.

Concentrate on ways to make her better, or if not better, to make her stronger so she can fight it.
Be a warrior, Gerb, concentrate on what you can do, don't let your thoughts circle around everything that can go wrong and around your sadness.

This is a time for you to fight, not to be defeated.

I'm sending you all my love and strength.


stephanie


Jerri-Lynn Peterson said...

You and your mom are in my prayers. It's been a year since my mom passed from ovarian cancer. Hers was discovered at stage 4 and Canada doesn't have some of the treatments that US does. Plus I have a friend and know of other ovarian cancer survivors. Stephanie is right. She could pull through and to stay positive but at the same time I do remember feeling just as you have described. It is a sort of gift in a way. We were able to get her personal history done and spend real quality time with her. We had so many sweet and spiritual experiences. But man I still really miss her. She was 61.

Shawna said...

My dear Gerberta, I'm trying to type a response here but you made it hard. I can't even see the screen through the tears that are flowing. My heart is breaking for you. I want time to stop for you too, so you can soak up all the beautiful moments of life with your dear mother. I pray the Lord will comfort you during the day and bring you peaceful sleep at night. I can't pretend to know just how hard this is for you, but I care deeply about you and want to do anything to help alleviate your pain.

I love you.

~Shawna Fisher

Shawna said...

My dear Gerberta, I'm trying to type a response here but you made it hard. I can't even see the screen through the tears that are flowing. My heart is breaking for you. I want time to stop for you too, so you can soak up all the beautiful moments of life with your dear mother. I pray the Lord will comfort you during the day and bring you peaceful sleep at night. I can't pretend to know just how hard this is for you, but I care deeply about you and want to do anything to help alleviate your pain.

I love you.

~Shawna Fisher

hi de ho said...

My mom was diagnosed with her first cancer about 16 years ago and pretty much given no hope. However, we were blessed with a miracle and we had the gift of another 16 years with her. When my mom was diagnosed with a new kind of cancer two years ago, we knew it would not be the same outcome. I started writing down every tender mercy I could see every day, and there were many. This helped during her illness because I could see we were still being blessed, even though very differently than I wanted. It was a very difficult time, but I know there are miracles if it is the Lord's will, and tender mercies to those of us who weep. I will miss her until I see her again, but until then I will rely on my Savior's love, my Father's love and the Comforter. My heart reaches out to you in prayer and hope for I know miracles happen. I hope you have at least another 16 years with your mom. Love you. Kathleen